


Repairs

by Hannahchamah



Category: Night at the Museum (2006 2009)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-15
Updated: 2015-01-15
Packaged: 2018-03-07 15:24:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3176761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannahchamah/pseuds/Hannahchamah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Octavius is a small plastic figurine by day, and a living being by night. He has managed to get himself hurt, possibly irreparably. Jedediah stays with him.</p><p>(A tumblr short story request.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Repairs

"I think I’m gonna faint." Jed croaked out as he grasped the Roman’s clammy, cold hand in his gloved one. "I knew it was bad, but I didn't ever expect…"  
 Octavius waved his free hand in dismissal, the motion reminiscent of a heavy flag on a pole much too thin. His voice was hardly above the sound of the January winds outside. “It’s alright, Jed… You know I am only plastic… I will be fixed again.” Jed balled his fist as tightly as the fitted leather against his knuckles would allow. “Larry ain’t gonna be here until tomorrow, then what?” “Then he’ll have me fixed… Someone will notice.” Octavius hoped. Jedediah tore his eyes away as they gravitated again to his friend’s plastic lower leg, severed at the knee. It was becoming dull as the flesh hardened back into artificial material- to protect him. Octavius leaned his head back against the wall of one of the buildings in the Roman diorama, the shadow of the lights cast short over them. He couldn't let his men see him like this.  
 Jedediah pulled the gloves off of his sweat-sticky fingers, wiping them dry on his linen shirt. “You can’t hide that hurtin’ face from me, Octy,” he said softly. “It’s just us, you ain’t gotta act all rough an’ tough… Shoot, ‘f it was me, you know I’d be cryin’ like the sweat off a pig in summer.” Octavius’ lips curled up into a slight smile as he watched the equally tense expression plastered onto the cowboy’s face.

  


“You’d be much louder than a pig.”

* * *

_  
_

_  
_

  
_Two_. Only two, said the black gavel of the silent clock hanging high on the wall of the room. Jedediah paced back and forth over the mock stone of the Roman diorama, under the harsh, judicial glare of the undying, unnatural display lights. He tugged at the brim of his black hat, shielding his eyes from the garish white light, and shielding the Roman from the glower of guilt that stretched across his face. Octavius, however, did not notice. His head rolled back against Jedediah's warm leather vest, which he'd done up into a pillow for him, and he sighed. Jed couldn't bear to look at him, really. His face was drawn and sick, and all color was simply gone- aside from the light sheen of sweat that glazed his forehead and neck. Jed had the disjointed  plastic leg taken away, put somewhere safe. The reality of the artificial leg shook him. His friend was a person, he was flesh, he was  _alive_. 

  


"Is it nearly morning..?" 

  


His unpleasant thoughts were cut short. "No, it ain't morning yet." Sacagawea sat near the diorama, on the wooden bench in the center of the room, the loose hairs in her braids swaying slightly in the draft. "Are you certain I should not contact Larry?" She asked, her voice as gentle and smooth as a breeze. Jed let out an animal grunt, crossing his arms tightly. "He ain't gonna be able to do nothing." His blue eyes darted to the clock again, then back at Octavius. "But I'm damn sick of waitin' here, doin' nothin'." The woman looked at them sympathetically, and she held her hand up. "I wish I could help you. I will wait with you."

  


  
_Three_. 

  


"You think people like us can die?" Jed let his thumbs hang from his belt loops as he watched the red hand of seconds cycle the clock. "Anyone can die, Jedediah." 

  


  
_Four_.

  


  Nearly morning- but not sunrise. The cowboy groaned loudly as he finally sat down, closing his eyes tightly. Ghosts of the lights from the display shone in the black of his eyelids, and he kept them closed. He rested his bare hand on Octavius' arm, his thumb rubbing circles in the skin. The Roman's dark eyes looked off, half lidded, and he parted his lips dry as desert. "Don't be so worried." he said quietly, covering the cowboy's calloused hand with his. "I'll get fixed, and that's that..." Jed took hold of Octavius' clammy hand quickly, warming it with his own. Octavius smiled dryly, his eyes tired. "Your silence speaks volumes."

  


  
_Five_. 

  


Not much longer until morning. Then back to normal, back to the ordinary. Jedediah repeated this in his head, tapping his thumb on his forehead. Sacagawea was standing by the window, her hands resting lightly on the cold glass. The panes rattled lightly as the wind battered them, over and over in gusts. Jed bit his lip. "That wind better shut the hell up, I'm sick and tired of hearin' it all night." Sacagawea looked at his faraway reflection in the window, holding the panes quiet. "The wind will continue to howl as long as our souls are eternal. Let it run its course." Jedediah looked down at Octavius, who had long since stopped talking. "Wonder how long that is." 

  


_Six._

  


Jed lingered in the Roman diorama, struggling to take his leave after waking Octavius. "You'll be fine if I go back to the West?" Jed grimaced as Octavius pushed himself off of the ground, leaning against one of the columns. "I am a Roman. We 'tough it out'." He managed with a small, comforting smile. Jedediah's chest relaxed briefly and he nodded, patting Octavius' shoulder. "I'll be waitin' to see you all fixed and gussied up." He swallowed heavily past his noose-tight throat, the words hardly crawling across his lips. "Good morning." 

  


  


The night Octavius was returned to the diorama was one without as much as a whisper of wind across the trees. Jedediah climbed over into the Roman diorama without hesitation- eager to see Octavius fully recovered and whole. Halfway up the steps of the small roman city, he paused. The Roman general stared down at him from atop his decorated horse, his eyes a harsh, dry brown. Jedediah's throat ran dry as the man atop the horse opened his mouth. 

  


  


"Who are _you_?"


End file.
